...maybe Mom hummed this song the morning after I was born...
I am 61 years of age today. Bloody but unbowed. And very, very grateful....
My dear friend Maudie is taking me for lunch at the Squirl Cafe.
From a review when the place opened last fall: "[Proprietor Jessica] Koslow is especially pleased to offer Kukoho Rose rice from Koda Farms, a proprietary varietal bred during the mid 20th century. (Read about the history of this family farm. Really, please do. It's fascinating.) 'I've never had anything like it,' Koslow says. She's serving the grain as hot or cold porridge underneath a dollop of seasonal jam and a sprinkle of toasted hazelnuts, or in a savory version with sorrel pesto, poached egg, blistered San Marzano tomatoes, preserved Meyer lemon and feta."
After that I plan to hie over to the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, there to survey the art and hear one of Beethoven's Late Quartets, Op. 131. If the Late Quartets don't get a person musing on eternity, nothing will!
Morning Mass will have tied it all together.
Thanks be to God.